Ignite your Bones
by Wild Force Ranger
Summary: After ten years alone, Erik is more than a little touch-starved. Being Erik, he can't actually bring himself to do anything about it... From a kink meme prompt.


Author's note: From a kink meme prompt, included at the bottom.

Ignite your Bones

Charles has always been good at reading people. His telepathy helps, yes, but even without it, when he tries, he can see how people are feeling and get a sense of what they're thinking from the way they act.

He'd always been able to read Erik without even trying, before.

The fight comes out of nowhere, Erik losing control enough to almost tear the plane apart. Charles is almost in shock; he knew Erik was angry, but this, this is unbelievable. As far as Charles knows Erik hasn't been this far out of control in years, not since before Cuba, since that day outside the house when they spoke of serenity and rage.

When Erik comes back with the chess board Charles is tempted to send him away. But he needs to relearn Erik, needs to know how to help him, how to deal with him. This is as good a way as any.

They're halfway through the game when the plane tilts slightly; Erik and Charles both reach to catch the board, and Charles' hand lands on Erik's.

Erik stops, and shudders.

It's only a second; Charles might not have noticed if he was looking down instead of up. A heartbeat later Erik has himself back in control, carefully twisting his hand out from under Charles', steadying the board from the other side instead.

Charles plays the rest of the game on autopilot, considering what he's just seen.

There's some time after they land before they head to the conference; Charles is leery of getting there too early and doing something to draw attention. Logan seems content to follow orders, and oh, Charles desperately wants to question him; there are so many things he'd give anything to know. He doesn't think Logan will tell him, though, and he doesn't want to put him in the position of having to refuse. Hank, as always, obeys Charles without question. Erik huffs and protests but doesn't make any attempt to leave.

Charles watches him without looking at him, a skill he perfected in college. Erik is on edge, pretending not to be, studying a paper someone left lying around; Charles isn't sure how up to date it is, but Erik's probably fairly behind…

Oh.

_Oh._

Charles is an _idiot_.

He tests his theory by walking past Erik's seat and stumbling. Erik braces him automatically, and Charles lets his hand fall to Erik's shoulder. Erik does something strange that's like tensing and relaxing all at once, like he can't figure out whether to hold still, push into Charles' touch, or pull away.

Hank is there, suddenly, touching Charles' other shoulder lightly. "Are you all right? Do you need -"

"No," Charles cuts him off, letting go of Erik; he thinks maybe Erik slumps slightly, but it's hard to judge. "I just tripped. I'm fine." He continues down the aisle to an empty seat; Hank lingers for a moment before going back to the cockpit to work on whatever he's working on.

From here Charles can see the side of Erik's face, his shoulder and knee, and not much else. Erik is staring at the paper, occasionally turning pages, but Charles doesn't think he's reading much.

Just less than ten years in solitary confinement. From what Peter told them before leaving, it was true solitary; no privacy, no contact, not a word passed from one side to the other. Charles can't even imagine it, and he doesn't want to try. He knows a little bit about the purported effects of solitary confinement on people, what can happen after even a few days.

Erik never seemed to go out of his way to seek out touch, before, but he didn't avoid it either, and Charles was always tactile; hand on his shoulder, pat on his arm, he did it without thinking. He hasn't touched anyone in a long time, beyond accepting Hank's help when his serum levels slip, but he remembers it.

He remembers how to do it.

* * *

Of course, then there's Paris, and then back home where the serum wears off and Logan and - himself - talk him into trying again, and then there's DC. DC, where everything goes so terribly wrong and so beautifully right, and both Raven and Erik leave him again.

Erik leaves his helmet behind.

Charles is almost back home when he realises he still has the sense of _Erik_. No details, not without concentrating, but there's a bright spot in his mind that's been missing for ten years. He touches it lightly, no pressure, no compulsion, nothing but acknowledgement, and senses the same whole body shudder in response.

Charles smiles faintly to himself.

* * *

Raven returns the man they'd known as Logan to them. He tells them his name is James Howlett, that he goes by Jimmy; he is abrasive and sarcastic and doesn't seem to share Charles' beliefs - or believe in anything particular himself - but he stays around anyway, sometimes vanishing for days at a time but always coming back. Charles skims enough of his mind to know that most of the horrific memories he found in Logan haven't happened yet. Apart from that, he leaves the man his privacy.

Raven herself doesn't stay, but she seems happier in herself. Charles does not allow himself to even peek at her mind, but he also makes a point of treating her exactly the same whatever form she happens to be wearing, and it makes things easier. They still don't agree on everything, but it's more like a debate now than the furious arguments they'd been having, and when she leaves she tells him she'll come back sometime.

Alex turns up, trailing a couple of others from his unit. Charles takes them all in. They're all in control of their powers, so there's little to do on that front, but they need somewhere to go. Between them, Hank, and Jimmy, the building and grounds are soon back in shape after ten years of almost total neglect.

Through it all, Charles keeps the connection to Erik; there's an occasional touch, though never anything he can translate into words. Just a sense of reaching, a confirmation that he's still there. Charles returns it each time, but he's stopped reaching out himself. Erik knows where he is.

And he proves it by turning up late one evening, bending the security fence and turning the cameras just enough to get inside. Charles checks to make sure there's no dangerous intentions, and that none of the others are up - Jimmy is awake, and he knows what's going on, but he doesn't seem to plan to interfere - and digs out a bottle of Scotch, having two glasses ready by the time Erik comes in.

They sit in silence for a while, facing each other a few feet apart, sipping or pretending to sip the Scotch. Erik is still helmetless and in civilian clothes rather than what Charles thinks of as the Magneto Outfit, and he looks tired and - not ill, exactly, but off somehow.

Charles finally breaks the silence, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. "How have you been?"

Erik's looking at Charles' hands. "I have - been," he answers, and Charles nods slowly.

"Have you seen Raven?"

"Our paths have crossed, here and there. She seems well."

"Yes." Charles smiles slightly. "She seems well."

"Charles," Erik says softly.

"Why are you here, Erik?" Erik tilts his head, looking vaguely confused, and Charles shakes his head. "Out loud, please."

"I'm not…" Erik closes his eyes, shaking his head, and Charles takes the opportunity to shift slightly closer. "My followers - my people are gone, Charles. I can't…"

"You're lonely," Charles says, smiling gently at the look on his face. "You know you can tell me these things."

"I know I don't _need_ to tell you these things." Erik is too tired to be properly irritated.

"I needed you to say it." Charles leans forward, resting one hand on Erik's knee. Erik watches intently, shuddering at the contact, dragging his eyes back up to meet Charles'. "Ten years in solitary, Erik?"

"I don't want to -" Charles squeezes, very slightly, and Erik stutters to a halt. "It's in the past," he manages finally.

"And you have always been able to leave your past behind you," Charles says pointedly. Erik swallows, and Charles offers quietly "I can help you."

"You can't…" Erik has to stop again. "Not in my mind, Charles."

"No," Charles agrees softly. "I won't go into your mind. Come here."

"Charles," Erik says warningly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Your virtue is quite safe. Come here."

Erik shifts his chair closer, and Charles reaches to grip his hands. "There are studies," he says calmly, rubbing a thumb over the back of Erik's knuckles, "that show solitary confinement is a legitimate form of torture. It's used in prisons to control unruly prisoners, and they've reported hallucinations, depression…"

"I'm fine," Erik says tightly, staring at their hands.

"Yes, of course," Charles agrees, still rubbing. After a moment he shifts his fingers, just slightly, enough to rest them against Erik's pulse point. It's racing, and he continues the gentle rub for a while, feeling his pulse slow into a steadier beat.

That's all they do; sit in silence, hands clasped. Erik drifts into a light sleep; Charles watches him, still rubbing gently, making no attempt to move.

Alex, as usual, is the first one up, but the others aren't far behind him. As soon as he senses them moving around, Charles lets go of Erik's hands. It's enough to wake him, and he looks around, startled.

"The children are waking up," Charles says quietly. "You need to decide what you're doing."

"Hardly children," Erik points out, but he's standing and looking around for his coat. Charles watches quietly as he prepares to leave.

Erik turns to look at him, finally. "Charles…"

"You know that you are welcome here," Charles says over him. "And you know the price of that welcome."

"I can't abandon them, Charles."

"They don't need warriors, Erik. They need leaders, teachers, fathers. If you train them for war that is what they will find."

"If I do not, they will be wiped out."

Charles smiles faintly. "Unless you have found a mutant who can see the future, Erik, you don't know that."

"Logan told us…"

"That the _Sentinels_ would kill us. They, and their creator, have been stopped, and no one will suggest them again. Not if you give them no cause." He glances towards the door. "Hank's looking for me. Are you staying?"

He's never quite sure if Erik actually makes a decision, or just hesitates too long. Either way, he's still standing there when Hank taps on the door. "Professor, are you...up…"

"Morning, Hank," Charles says calmly.

"Morning," Hank replies, sounding completely bewildered.

Charles wheels across to beside Erik; he can sense the other man leaning in towards him. "We have a guest."

"So I see," Hank says blankly. Catching himself, he adds, "How long is our guest planning on staying?"

Charles eyes Erik. "Not really sure yet, to be honest. Can you tell the others, please?"

Hank is still staring; Charles sends the mental equivalent of clearing his throat, and Hank nods slowly. "Yeah. I'll tell them."

"Thank you," Charles says mildly.

Hank almost walks into the door on the way out; Charles does not laugh. Erik isn't so restrained, but at least he waits until Hank is actually gone before he laughs.

"Erik," Charles protests.

"Apologies, Charles," Erik says obediently. His hand is brushing Charles' shoulder, not quite touching. "Do you think the others will take it that well?"

"We may be fortunate that Jimmy retains no memories of Logan's actions," Charles allows. "The only other person here who knows you is Alex, and I don't believe you hurt him personally."

"No. I don't believe I did," Erik agrees. "How long do you suppose I can keep this up, Charles?"

"As long as you wish to, Erik. Logan told us that you and I worked together to send him back. We can begin that now. Today."

"And what will I do here, Charles? You'll soon have students coming back, I assume. Will you trust me with them? What would I teach?"

"Languages," Charles says offhandedly.

"Languages," Erik repeats flatly. "Languages, Charles?"

Charles shrugs, feeling Erik's hand rise and fall with the movement. "History, then, or comparative religions. If you want to stay, Erik, we will find a place for you. There was always a place for you here."

"And peace?" Erik asks wryly.

Charles smiles. "Yes. If there is peace for you, Erik, we will find it. Help me protect the children. Our actions will determine whether they are accepted or hunted."

He reaches up to take Erik's hand; Erik leans into him without even seeming to realise it. He does murmur "That's unfair," though.

"The children need protecting," Charles says, though he's almost sure that's not what Erik meant. "They need teachers."

"Yes, you said," Erik agrees. "I can't say that I agree with all your ideas, Charles."

"I don't agree with all of yours, so that seems fair."

"They will need protecting."

"Some of them," Charles concedes, because he's been using Cerebro, he knows how some mutants are being treated; he's already planned visits to several of them. "And we will protect them. But we will not strike first, Erik. Never."

"And if they strike first?"

"If they strike first we will protect ourselves and each other." His fingers tighten on Erik's, drawing him around in front of the chair; his other hand touches Erik's wrist, rubbing over the tattoo beneath his shirt. "This? Will not happen again, Erik. But we don't stop these things through war. That will only lead us to one place."

Erik snorts half heartedly. "Ever the optimist, Charles."

"Someone has to balance you out," Charles returns.

Jimmy bangs on the door. Erik jumps; Charles' hand tightens around his wrist.

"Are you two coming or should I tell them you're - occupied?"

The leer is unmistakable even through the closed door. Charles smiles, breaking into a chuckle at the look on Erik's face. "He's rather earthier than the other one. You get used to it." Raising his voice, he adds, "We're coming."

"Are you?" Jimmy's grinning when Erik opens the door; it fades when he sees them. "Aw, hell."

"You shouldn't be gambling anyway," Charles tells him, wheeling past without looking at him.

* * *

Hank, they discover, has set Erik's place as far from Charles' as possible without actually banishing him to another table. Charles starts to protest; Erik catches his eye and he subsides. "Erik will be staying with us," he says instead.

Spyke glances around the table, clearly picking up on the tension and just as clearly baffled by it. "For how long?" he asks politely.

"The foreseeable future," Charles answers before anyone else can. "He'll teach European Languages once we're open again."

Jimmy immediately asks something in Quebec accented French; Erik blinks but gamely answers. Charles checks, but there's no alarm or hurt coming from either of them, so he turns his attentions to the two people whose reactions worry him the most.

Alex meets his gaze steadily, holding it before quirking a smile and looking away. Alex and Erik have never exactly been close, Charles knew, but it looks like he is willing to follow Charles' lead. Good.

Hank barely meets his eyes, gaze skittering around the room, and he's the first to leave. But he's not actually rude, and Charles will settle for that.

* * *

He wakes out of someone else's nightmare that night. Cursing softly, he lets his senses open as he goes about getting into his chair. That particular mix of images can only have come from one person, really, but he checks to be sure.

Hank catches up with him in the corridor, frowning. "What are you doing?"

"Erik's having a nightmare."

They both glance up as the ceiling suddenly creaks; Hank sighs. "Wake him up from here, Professor."

"He doesn't need to be woken up."

"You can't go in there, you're in a wheelchair. He'll turn you into a pinball."

Charles makes to go on; Hank blocks him. "Professor…"

"Move, Hank," Charles warns him, one hand hovering near his temple. Hank scowls, stepping aside and trailing him towards Erik's room.

Erik is lying very still, arms held rigidly by his side. Charles wheels to the head of the bed, leaning over to press the palm of his hand against Erik's cheek. Erik's hand flies up to grip Charles' wrist and he hisses in pain but doesn't pull back.

"Do you know what solitary confinement does to a person, Hank?" he asks softly. "Erik has spent the last ten years in the most complete solitary confinement you can imagine."

"He was not in solitary confinement before he shattered your spine."

"It was an accident." Charles isn't sure he really believes that, but he needs them to think he does.

"It doesn't _matter_ whether it was an accident or not what he intended. He _did_ it, and then he _left_ you, left all of us, trapped on that beach surrounded by hostile armies!"

Charles doesn't dare look away from Erik, and he doesn't think Hank would appreciate being looked at right now anyway.

"Charles," Hank says, and he sounds as though it's hurting him to say the words, "Erik is broken. I'm sorry for him. But not every damaged mutant is yours to fix. And he was dangerous long before he broke."

"Do you think so?" Charles murmurs.

"He broke your spine."

"No. I mean, do you think that was before he broke?"

Erik opens his eyes and his fingers flex around Charles' wrist. "Ist das echt?"

"You're having a nightmare," Charles says gently.

"Wo ist…"

"Westchester."

"Is he awake?" Hank asks.

"Not really. Almost, and getting closer."

Erik presses his cheek into Charles' palm and his fingers flex again. "Echt?" he asks.

"It's real," Charles assures him. "I'm real, Erik."

Hank has withdrawn as far as the door when Erik speaks again. "It's real?"

"Yes," Charles says patiently. "This is real, Erik."

"I dreamed this." He's staring straight ahead, not even looking at Charles; he doesn't seem to have registered Hank's presence at all. "I thought you'd come. I called for you."

"I know." Charles lowers his head. "I stopped listening, I'm afraid. And then I couldn't any more."

"You weren't there," Erik mourns softly. "No one was there. No one was ever there. I dreamed of this, waking up away from that place."

"I know. And now you have." Turning his head slightly, he adds, "He's not really awake. I don't think he'll remember this."

"He's hurting you," Hank says neutrally.

Charles glances at his wrist. "Actually, he's not now."

"Now," Hank mutters softly.

"Ten years, Hank. No contact with anyone. Nothing to see, nothing to do." Erik's nightmares still fresh in his mind, he can't stop himself from adding "Abuse from the guards."

Hank is staring at him. Charles clears his throat. "We were friends once, he and I -"

"For a few weeks more than a decade ago."

"I touched his mind then. And there was light there, Hank, and joy. He can be the better man; I _feel_ it. If I turn him away now, I will feel responsible for his actions. Do you understand?"

"You take too much on yourself."

Charles smiles, feeling the echo of that older him who now never existed. "It's the greatest gift I have, to bear his pain without breaking - go to bed, Hank."

"You didn't sleep last night," Hank reminds him. "I'll sit with Erik." Charles starts to protest and Hank says "You're not using your powers. I can ground him just as well as you can."

"It's not about grounding, Hank, it's about this." He lifts his wrist into view.

"Letting him hurt you?"

"Letting him touch me. Without fear or expectation." Erik is awake and listening. Charles continues evenly "Touch is important. It reminds us who we are." He glances up at Hank. "You saw what I became after a handful of years of self imposed isolation."

"Yes," Hank murmurs. "I saw that."

"If this helps Erik, it's little enough to do. He knows the rules, he knows my expectations."

"And if he violates them? If he hurts you?"

"Then you and Alex may act as you see fit." That may be a little pointed, but he's not naive, and he needs to be sure that Erik understands. "I'll leave that to your discretion. Please trust me, my friend."

"I trust you," Hank says finally. "And because I trust you, I will trust this."

"Thank you," Charles says sincerely. Hank is his most loyal friend, and he hates being at odds with him.

"I don't trust him."

"We'll work on that."

Hank nods. "Goodnight, professor."

"Goodnight, Hank."

The door closes behind him. Erik's eyes open again, looking upwards. "Am I hurting you?" he asks hoarsely.

"No," Charles assures him. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." Erik presses into Charles' hand again. "Did you see it?"

"A little," Charles admits. "I'm sorry for everything that happened to you."

"You didn't cause any of it."

Charles smiles. "I didn't help much, either."

"Hank is right. We are not all yours to fix, Charles."

"No," Charles agrees. "You'll forgive me for trying."

"I'll forgive you anything."

It's not the kind of thing Erik would say if he weren't half asleep and upset. Charles decides to ignore it, after a moment.

"Erik," he says softly, "if you want, I can dull those memories. Just enough to help you sleep, help you relax."

Erik stares past Charles' shoulder for a long time. "I don't know who I'd be without them," he says finally.

"I don't have to take them away. Just blunt the edges, a little."

"Have you blunted your memories?"

"No," Charles admits.

"What keeps you up at night, Charles?"

Charles considers for a moment. "We're trying to help you sleep better, not me."

"Do you think your nightmares would keep me awake?"

"There are shadows in my past, Erik," he says softly. "And don't change the subject."

"I'm not." Erik's free hand lifts, hovers a hairs' breadth above Charles' shoulder. He doesn't move; this has to be Erik's choice. "I want to understand why you offer me something you deny yourself."

His hand settles, light as air, on Charles' shoulder.

"It's different for me."

"How?"

Charles thinks for a moment, translating it into something Erik might understand. "Your memories are only loosely connected. You can lose one, dim one, forget one without it affecting anything else. Mine are far more entangled. If I try to dim one I could lose something important. It may be a telepath trait; I didn't spend enough time in Emma's mind to be sure." He shifts slightly - his back is starting to complain about being hunched over like this. "But I can blunt your memories without any difficulty."

"You can't sit like that."

"Don't change the subject."

He rolls his eyes, letting go - and Charles is not imagining the reluctance, he's sure of it - and rolling away, sitting up. "Sit up and spare what back muscles you have left, Charles."

"Erik."

"I told you. I don't know who I am without those memories."

"It wouldn't change what happened."

"It would change my understanding of what happened."

"It would help you to sleep."

Erik shakes his head, and Charles manages to mostly hold back his sigh. "Very well. It will always and only be your choice."

"How generous of you."

Charles ignores that. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

Erik immediately stiffens. "Yes, of course." Charles hesitates and he forces a smile that looks more like a grimace. "Go on, Charles. You're tired. No need to hold my hand all night."

Threaded through and around the words, so strong it blasts through his shields, is the desperate, heart felt _don't leave me_ that Erik's repressing. Charles eyes the bed and mentally sighs.

"Good. Hold out your arm, please." Erik frowns. "The bed's too high. I can't get onto it by myself."

And this is a gamble; will Erik trade his weakness for Charles', will he take what Charles is desperately trying to give him. If this fails there is little else to do. This is the last chance.

Erik studies him for a moment before leaning forward, offering a sturdy arm. "And my virtue?"

Charles swings himself onto the bed. It's awkward, Erik isn't used to helping him, but they manage. "Your virtue is safe," he says rather breathlessly. Catching Erik's look, he adds, "For tonight, at any rate. We'll see about anything else tomorrow." He arranges himself as comfortably as possible, waiting.

Erik is stiff beside him, staring at the ceiling, but eventually he relaxes. This is not, exactly, unfamiliar; crossing the country on a CIA budget often left them sharing a bed. But that was a long time ago, and the weight of a decade makes this difficult.

"What are we doing?" Erik asks eventually.

Charles reaches for his hand, linking their fingers and letting them rest on his chest, where they can both feel his heart. "Nothing more or less than you want," he says sleepily. God, he is _tired_. He hadn't realised it until he lay down, until he could relax a little.

"Charles," Erik says softly.

"Tonight we are sleeping. Tomorrow, Hank will be wary, Jimmy will be uncouth, Alex will probably glare at you. Everything else is up to you."

"I don't know that I'd call it uncouth," Erik says idly. "Crass, vulgar…"

Charles squeezes his hand gently. "This is the important part, Erik. Everything else will come, or not...yes, I said come, do try to contain yourself...but this is the important part."

"Yes," Erik murmurs. "It is, isn't it."

"Now, as you pointed out, I'm tired. Do you think we can deal with everything else in the morning?"

"Yes." Erik relaxes all at once, folding bonelessly against Charles' side. "We can deal with everything else tomorrow."

Charles drifts into sleep with Erik pressed against his side and their hands warm over his heart.

_Lights will guide you home_  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you

* * *

Prompt: Charles/Erik - touchstarved!Erik Just that. During or after the events of DOFP. (Although added points for mixing it up with like... dom!Erik. or sub!Erik. or asexual!Erik. or if they hadn't made it quite to being in a relationship before Cuba.)


End file.
